


recovery

by bondofoblivion



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Fear, Getting Together, Harisen Recovery, M/M, Masks, Mementos (Persona 5), One Shot, Status Ailments, i don't even know how to tag this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 00:52:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14437920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bondofoblivion/pseuds/bondofoblivion
Summary: Observing Akira Kurusu became a pastime for Goro Akechi, but after Goro joined Akira’s band of Phantom Thieves, he found himself becoming more acquainted with his other senses.





	recovery

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even really know, guys. Have a sorta cute thing. 
> 
> Also, hit me up on [twitter](http://twitter.com/amgedpha) or in the comments with your thoughts.

      Observing Akira Kurusu became a pastime for Goro Akechi. From the messy black hair to the pointed toes of his alter ego’s attire in the Metaverse, Goro had become increasingly more intimate with the nuances of Akira’s appearance, right down to they way his eyes never narrowed in an effort to see despite not wearing his glasses. 

       As visually stimulating as Akira was, after Goro joined Akira’s band of Phantom Thieves, he found himself becoming more acquainted with his other senses. Particularly, Goro found himself far more conscious of touch and smell.

       Not necessarily in that order, of course.

       Akira always smelled like coffee and curry. Truly, it made sense, considering Akira’s home environment. Traversing the Metaverse with Akira made Goro extremely aware of this, close quarters and all. It was difficult not to be conscious of Akira’s presence, when pressed against one another in Mona as they travelled in Mementos or as they inhabited small spaces in preparation to attack nearby shadows. Despite how his own mask kept a considerable amount of distance between Akira and Goro, the suffocating scent was always present.

       Also, Goro regretted to mention that perfume of coffee and curry surrounding the Phantom Thieves’s leader wasn’t the only thing to take his breath away, not when Akira laid a hand on the small of his back, body pressed nearly flush against his when rounding a corner to ambush the aforementioned shadows.

       It was one thing to ignore a single sense, but Akira’s very essence seemed intent on securing rapt attention of all.

       Goro’s mind was already consumed by the enigma of Akira Kurusu — he supposed it was only a matter of time before his body would follow suit.

       It likely didn’t help that Goro noticed the sheer magnetism of Akira when they first met and every time they ran into each other since. 

       Then, weaving himself into the fabric of Akira’s life proved more difficult than he’d assumed. Even when it appeared that blackmail would become his only option, Goro couldn’t seem to keep himself from spilling his guts at Leblanc over a cup of coffee because he felt unwelcome anytime he wasn’t in Akira’s presence.

       Yes — such occurrences — certainly didn’t help.

       They were currently facing off with a group of shadows, and while Goro might be extremely aware of Akira’s presence to his right, he’s even more alert to the the sensation of being targeted. 

       And something about this shadow gave Goro the distinct impression that the attack wasn’t going to miss.

       The feeling started in the base of his spine — traveled up his vertebrae until it declared control of his entire form. It locked his arms in their state and forced to the forefront of his consciousness anything and everything that had ever frightened Goro Akechi.

       “Akechi!” He heard someone call out, though he couldn’t be sure who.

       Goro was frozen in place and targeted again, and this shadow — from his brief analysis, had attacks that would serve well in hitting him where he was weakest. He ground his teeth together when he found himself incapable of even guarding against the Curse attack. Then, Goro was on the ground, struck again by a one more.

       Goro knew he had taken a significant amount of damage and was well aware that he should use a restorative item but he couldn’t move until the urge to run — to really run — from this battle hit him. Hard.

       The Phantom Thieves needed him, Akira needed him, because he knew their leader didn’t have a persona at the ready that could inflict Bless damage.

       The body count would begin to include the Thieves if Goro fled.

       And Akira was counting on Goro.

       Morgana was attacking the shadows when Goro was startled, completely and utterly shocked, because Akira had an arm locked around his form and had pushed his mask askew, pressing his mouth against Goro’s.

       He smelt so strongly of coffee, curry, and cake batter —?

       Akira pulled backed and readjusted their masks in such a quick motion that Goro hardly realized what happened, before Akira whispered something to him, mouth dangerously close to Goro’s ear.

       “Harisen Recovery,” Akira said, and Goro’s fears were the farthest thing from his mind when could still smell and taste the cake batter on his own lips.

       It did the trick, though, and Goro suddenly lost all trace of uncertainty. He smirked as he casted Mahamaon, taking down the remaining shadows.

       Akira shot him a smile and Ryuji patted him on the back. Even Morgana murmured something about a job well done. Ann smiled brightly when they returned, especially when Ryuji mentioned, however begrudgingly, that they would have been in deep shit if Goro hadn’t snapped out of Fear like that.

       Nobody mentioned Akira’s tactic to cure Goro’s fear and Goro certainly didn’t intend to be the first to bring it up.

       That being said, Goro wasn’t fazed when Akira called on him to meet in Mementos the following day. What he was surprised by though, was that the rest of the gang was absent, Morgana included.

       Still, as Goro Akechi had the tendency to do, he played off the scenario as if Akira intended on doing some one on one training with him. Given he was the newest member of the team and almost got himself killed the day prior, it made sense. 

       “Do you still not trust me to hold my own, Joker?” Goro asked, as he joined Akira where he lingered, leaned against the wall nearest the stairway that led down into the depths of Mementos. “Anyone could have been inflicted with Fear.”

       “I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Akira said, the edge of a smirk pulling at his lips.

       Well, if that wasn’t a loaded statement.

       Goro sighed and shook off his suspicion as he took a place by Akira’s side. A soft laugh parted his lips.

       “Considering it was I who ended the altercation,” Goro countered, eyes barely registering Akira in his peripheral. “I believe you know the answer to that already.”

       Akira turned toward Goro then, closing the distance between them. His eyes were dangerous, fitting the persona of Joker almost too well. 

       Goro considered the implications of Akira’s heart presenting in such a way, sharp and direct in the Metaverse, yet soft and passive in reality.

       He did not, however, acknowledge that he preferred this look on Akira’s face, especially because he found it the easiest to read of all of Akira’s masks.

       “So, nothing about how I cured your status ailment?” Akira said, moving to stand before Goro, weight leaned against a hand on the wall next to Goro’s side, almost trapping him.

       “An unorthodox but effective method,” Goro supplied in response, ignoring Akira’s proximity to the best of his ability. “The strategy is to shock the afflicted out of the status that they’ve been inflicted with, correct?”

“Yep,” Akira confirmed, leaning forward.

       Goro smiled, pleasantly, even as he tried to override the mantra of, “Akira, Akira, Akira,” racing through his mind, which was terribly difficult, given Akira was all he could see, hear, smell, and if he was brave enough — touch.

       Akira certainly hadn’t hesitated to lay hands on him before. 

       So, what was stopping Goro?

       “Well, I was certainly surprised,” Goro said, instead.

       “So — you didn’t mind?” Akira asked, and Goro swore he saw the barest glimmer of Akira, not Joker, in the way he spoke.

       Goro swallowed hard, casting his gaze towards the staircase that led to the depths of Mementos, wondering if the true predator of humanity’s subconscious was standing before him now, not buried somewhere deep within a collective psyche. Only a second passed before he met the storm of Akira’s gaze once more.

       “You needed the type of attack I specialize in,” Goro explained, “Given we were out of items that cure Fear, you acted accordingly,” He paused then, original scripted response complete, but then dared himself to say more, to speak the question Akira was challenging him to ask. “Might I ask why you didn’t just hit me like you and your friends often do? That is what a harisen recovery is, after all.”

       “You really want to know the answer to that?” Akira asked, crowding him once more, mere centimeters separating their chests, the long beak of Goro’s mask keeping Akira at a distance.

       “Don’t patronize me, Kurusu.” Goro said.

       “I figured,” Akira said, dropping his gaze from Goro for a moment, the voice of Joker fading into nothing as he spoke, “with what little I know about your background…” He trailed off, before meeting Goro’s eyes once more, “that I didn’t want to hit you.”

       Goro paused. “I see.”

       “And —,” Akira said, interrupting Goro before he truly process the implications of such a confession with another, “you’ve been driving me crazy.” And just as Goro opened his mouth to respond to that, Akira continued. “You’re always right here,” He said, pulling himself to his full height, losing all resemblance to the quiet boy from Leblanc, “— telling me how interested you are in talking to me.” 

       “I —,” Goro began, only to be interrupted once more.

       Akira pushed his own mask up and out of his face as he spoke, “How you open up to me and only me.” Akira shrugged his shoulders, “Maybe you knew I was a phantom thief and were just trying to get information, but whatever —,” Akira’s other arm joined the first against the wall, framing Goro, blocking all exists, as if Goro would rather be anywhere than at the center of Akira’s attention, “It doesn’t matter, not when I can smell the product in your hair, the ink, the leather of your gloves and god, you’re always staring at me.”

       Goro nearly choked. Part of him realized he should have noticed how much the leader of the Phantom Thieves was paying attention to him, too.

       “I’ll do my best to keep my eyes —,” Goro said, cursing himself as his voice broke, “to myself then. I apologize, Kurusu.”

       “No,” Akira responded, bring up a hand to push Goro’s mask askew from his features, “just let me do something about it.”

       “You don’t mean to imply —,” Goro said, acknowledging a moment too late he shouldn't have allowed Akira to strip him of his mask.

       “Goro —,” Akira purred in a voice that definitely belonged to Joker, “call me Akira, because what I want to do to you is well beyond the formalities.”

       “Kurusu — Akira,” Goro responded, correcting himself quickly, deflecting to the first thing that crossed his mind, which was what his eyes were focused on, Akira’s mouth, “Were you wearing cake batter flavored chapstick?”

       “Wanna find out for yourself?”

       “You’re —,” Goro paused, and laughed, really, truly laughed, “impossible.”

       “You’re not saying no,” Akira countered, smile becoming less sharp, more playful.

       “I loathe the very ground you walk upon,” Goro said, with no malice, as he looked upon Akira’s countenance, so close to him.

       “Yeah — I’m into you, too.” Akira said.

       Goro found himself smiling despite how foolish the notion was, that Joker, the leader of the Phantom Thieves was coming onto a man that planed to betray him. Goro was dumbfounded that Akira was inviting him not only to break his body but his mind in this moment. Of course, Akira didn’t know this — and maybe, just for a while, Goro could pretend that it was more — that Akira would live, that he himself, would live.

       So he pushed the future out of his mind for a moment and pressed his mouth against Akira’s, falling into the inconceivable thrall of the man before him. Because, right now, all that ran through his mind were visions of coffee, curry, pointed toe shoes, fake glasses and cake batter chapstick. 


End file.
